


Doc's Holiday

by Dawnwind



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Birthday Party, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 20:39:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11997552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: Mid August in Purgatory is too hot and too quiet. No revenants to hunt down, or curses to unravel. Time for a party!





	Doc's Holiday

Doc’s Holiday  
By Dawnwind

John Henry poured himself two fingers of the good stuff he kept for special, raised it to the ceiling in an ironic salute and swallowed it neat. Went down nice and warm, sending a glow through his insides. 

Not that he really needed to be any warmer. It was close to ninety degrees outside and not much cooler in Shorty’s. The danged air conditioner, a contraption he generally found quite amazing, didn’t have quite the horse power to overcome Purgatory heat in mid-summer.

Seemed most of the citizens of this fair town were not stupid enough to go out in the midday sun. The saloon contained only one occupant other than himself, and that was Matt Logan who spent every day here, assumedly to escape his wife. Logan nursed a single beer from eleven a.m. onward unless some kindly soul bought him another. That wasn’t likely to happen any time soon, at this rate.

An odd day to be all alone. Henry looked around the familiar bar; the leather couches on the upper level near the door, the wide, uneven wooden floor, cigarette scorched tables and crooked legged chairs. Not half bad, really. Certainly beat a century in a well. In here, he could tolerate solitude, because he knew there were folks nearby, friends. 

Yet, apparently all had something to do. Jeremy was away, doing whatever weird fan boy things he did on his day off. Dolls apparently had equally cryptic plans for the afternoon, which left Henry on his lonesome. No demons or revenants to hunt down. No weird spells to investigate. It felt strange to be so…bored.

He hadn’t been bored since he’d escaped the well and met the Earp sisters. They always supplied something unexpected.

The front door of the saloon banged open.

“Doc!” Wynonna Earp walked in with a sly smile, toting a square, pink box. “It’s your lucky day.”

Behind her, an enormous, rainbow colored bag with Waverly Earp’s legs followed. 

“What is this here?” Henry exclaimed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Waverly set the bag on the bar and jumped to one side, tooting on a red plastic horn. “Surprise!” Dressed in a tiny green lace skirt that barely covered her little behind and a teal t-shirt knotted tightly behind her back, she resembled a perky elf. The pointy green hat on her head only added to the illusion.

“Waves Googled your birthday.” Wynonna jerked a thumb at her younger sister. “Lo and behold, it’s today.”

“You could have asked me.” He smoothed his mustache, amused.

“What’s the fun in that?” Waverly waggled a finger at him. “Wynonna has the cake and I brought the gifts. A perfect way to spend a hot afternoon.”

“No one’s ever thrown me a birthday party,” he said, staring at the older sister. With Peacemaker strapped to her leather clad leg, Wynonna looked like she’d be far more at home stirring up trouble rather than butter, eggs and flour. “You baked?”

“Baked?” she scoffed. “Went over to the grocery, pointed at the fucking biggest cake on display and told ‘em to write ‘Happy birthday, Doc’ in red icing.” She opened the pink box with a flourish. “Then I saw that this one was on sale, and bought it instead.”

“Happy Bar Mitzvah, Bernie?” Waverly read in dismay. “Wynonna!”

“I like it,” Henry declared with a smirk. “Adds a whole level of Purgatory weirdness to the occasion.”

“Let’s dig in!” Wynonna pulled out her knife, one more suited to skinning game than cutting a cake, but Doc wasn’t choosy.

“No, no, no!” Waverly stopped either of them before the knife sliced into the creamy frosting. “There’s an order to this. Presents first, the birthday song, then cake.”

“Party pooper.” Wynonna rolled her eyes. “Open your gift, Doc.”

“What could this be?” He peered curiously into the bag, discovering a large box wrapped in blue tissue and three smaller, slimmer boxes each wrapped in a separate color of tissue paper. He selected the yellow one, first. “Season one of Sleepy Hollow?” he read off the cover. The picture featured a handsome bearded man with a beautiful, dark-skinned girl peering over his shoulder. “My knowledge of television programs is rudimentary, so I am curious as to why you thought I’d enjoy this one?” he asked. Truth be told, he’d begun to really relish sitting back with a beer to watch the many, many movies and TV series that featured Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. 

“Since you’ve now watched _Tombstone_ and _Gunfight at the OK Corral_ sixty-seven times each,” Waverly explained, handing over the two other gifts, one swathed in orange tissue, the other purple. 

“Those are excellent films!” he protested, opening season two and three of Sleepy Hollow.

“You knew how they ended before you watched them!” Wynonna groaned, poking a finger in the cake frosting. “You were there.”

“Stop that!” Waverly smacked her sister’s arm. “You may find that this series sounds oddly familiar, too.”

“How do you mean?” he asked, envying Wynonna’s hubris. He wanted a taste, too, preferably off her delectable finger. Instead, he tipped more rye into his cup.

“Doc!” Wynonna grabbed the bottle out of his hand, splashing whiskey on the counter. “What kind of bartender are you, hiding the good stuff from your best customers. Where’s my glass?”

“You’ve gotten one for yourself often enough,” he chuckled. “Tell me about this here TV show.”

She scowled at him, reaching around the bar for a shot glass.

“What would you say about a story of two sisters fighting demons, and a man, cursed by a witch, coming back after centuries?” Waverly proposed, grinning broadly.

“Someone has been spyin’ on us?” Henry asked, astonished. His hand went to his revolver, feeling suddenly suspicious. 

“No shit, but sounds like it, huh?” Wynonna brazenly swiped another dollop of frosting and sucked on her finger, chasing the treat down with whiskey. She grimaced. “Ooo, don’t go together well.”

“That’s why you should wait!” Waverly admonished. “Sleepy Hollow ran from 2013 to earlier this year, and is set in New York, not Canada. It’s lots of fun.”

“So, this here show has nuthin’ t’do with us?” Doc asked. “How did they come up somethin’ like that?”

“Apparently, Purgatory isn’t the only city plagued by demons and revenants,” Wynonna explained, sipping her whiskey with the pleased expression of someone who really enjoyed her work. “According to TV-land, the North American continent is overrun by all manner of supernatural beings. And certain towns are more inundated than others.”

“Sunnyvale on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Waverly nodded thoughtfully. “Has a portal to the underworld in the center. Sleepy Hollow seems to be a conduit for the unnatural, a bit like Purgatory but without the specific caliber of demons we have related to the Earp curse.”

“Of course, there’s the Winchester brothers.” Wynonna reached for the whiskey bottle again but Doc moved it away.

“Those boys couldn’t avoid trouble if they tried,” said a voice from the other side of the room.

Henry, Waverly, and Wynonna all turned as one to stare at Matt Logan. It was the first time Henry had ever heard the man speak more than—“beer, please.” 

“You watch Supernatural?” Waverly asked. 

The man nodded, raising a finger to indicate he wanted to say more. “I like their car.”

“A good vehicle is always important,” Henry agreed. He’d owned two in his short time in the 21st century, and had experienced more than his fair share of problems with the mechanical beasts. “These plots sound more like penny dreadfuls than popular serials.”

“Penny Dreadful!” Waverly cried gleefully. “I’d almost forgotten that one. Frankenstein, vampires and werewolves in London.” She elbowed her sister. “Wynonna, you’d like it. Mr. Chandler is right up in your wheelhouse with a very Buffalo Bill Cody, Doc Holliday vibe.”

“I’ll have to check that one out,” Wynonna agreed.

“I beg your pardon.” Doc straightened, affronted. “Buffalo Bill Cody and I have nuthin’ in common whatsoever.”

“Except the mustache?” Wynonna traced her thumb over Henry’s upper lip. “I have great admiration for a man who can grow a decent cookie duster.”

It was extremely enticing. Henry had to rein himself in or he would have taken her there on the bar—in front of Waverly, which was decidedly not the gentlemanly thing to do. Particularly when Wynonna tended to be somewhat sensitive about public displays of affection.

“I’m in need of some cake now!” Henry declared. “And a bit of televised entertainment!”

“The only reason I came,” Wynonna commented to no one in particular. “Cake.” 

“We’re going to watch Sleepy Hollow,” Waverly called over to Logan. “Join us, if you’d like.” She gave Wynonna the stink eye for plunging her knife into the sugary frosting. “Wy, at least sing the birthday song first.”

 _“They say it’s your birthday,”_ she rasped the Beatles’ famous version. _“You’re gonna have a good time…birthday…”_ Humming the rest of the song, Wynonna sliced the cake in quarters, placing each piece on the plates Doc supplied. 

“I figured we didn’t need to put on any candles,” Waverly began. “I wasn’t even sure there were one hundred sixty-six in all of Purgatory.”

“You’re one hundred and sixty-six?” Wynonna stared at him for so long, Henry was about to kiss that smirk off her face. “That many candles would have burned the whole place down.” She didn’t wait for Doc to take the first bite of cake, and dug in with relish.

“Very tasty,” Henry said after a forkful, wiping a smear of frosting off his ‘stache. “And I do not look a day over thirty-six.”

“Maybe one day,” Wynonna murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

She tasted like chocolate and danger. Henry grinned against her lips, prolonging the kiss.

“D’you want the last slice?” Waverly asked when Logan tentatively approached the bar.

“I could…” He gestured mutely at the DVD player and then the flat screen perched over the bar for the occasional televised hockey and football games.

“That’s right!” Wynonna exclaimed, pointing her cakey fork at him. “You were the AV geek in high school. Go ahead, God knows Doc here doesn’t know his coaxial cable from his input and output slots.”

“That sounds remarkably dirty,” Henry said dryly. “And I have no earthly idea what it means.”

Wynonna grinned lecherously at him, taking a morsel of cake off his plate and shoveling it into her mouth with two fingers.

“Just sit back and enjoy the show,” Waverly placated, as if her sister weren’t practically giving him cake sex. “Main characters are Ichabod Crane, Abbie and Jenny Mills.”

Logan had the cables inserted into the correct places in a remarkably short time and the small disc for season one was placed inside the machine. Even after living in the 21st century for over a year, Henry still found himself in awe of the remarkable devices most took for granted. The idea that four entire hours of television could fit on that tiny round piece of whatever-it-was-made-of was astounding.

He was immediately caught up in the story, particularly with Crane’s confusion and fascination with the modern world. Henry certainly could identify with that! In fact, it made him want to see more of the United States circa 2017. Possibly some day.

Just as the first episode was ending, the door from the street opened, several people clamoring in, including Nicole Haut. Henry looked up as the credits rolled. He should greet customers, act like a proper saloon keeper, but it was his birthday, and after—he wasn’t quite willing to count up how many had passed uncelebrated—he wanted a little pampering.

“I’ll pull a couple beers,” former Shorty’s waitress Waverly volunteered. “Wy, start episode two.” She ran over to her girlfriend for a resounding kiss. “Wondered where you were, Officer Haut.” 

“Keeping the law in this town.” Nicole beamed. “What are you watching?”

“Sleepy Hollow,” Wynonna explained. “Handsome guy who comes from the past and beautiful sisters cursed by fate.” 

“I’m thinking of starting a TV afternoon at Shorty’s,” Waverly added, going around the bar to hand out beers. 

“Give me one, darlin’,” Henry called. “I need more libation to deal with these here witches and headless horsemen.”

“Great idea to bring people inside on such a hot day,” Nicole said, leaning against the bar rail. “When I first watched this show, I never imagined this could all be real.” She passed the last of the beers to Doc and Wynonna.

“You know, I should probably start taking notes.” Waverly rooted out a pad and pencil. “Abbie and Crane do some righteous research. Could come in handy someday.”

“Sssh,” one of the newcomers warned, focusing on the screen.

Henry grinned, sipping his brew. Because of the Earp sisters, his lonely afternoon had turned into a party—just as they had altered his life. “Thanks, Wyatt,” he whispered, briefly raising his glass to the ceiling again.

The second episode had barely ended when the door swung open once again, this time with some very familiar faces. Dolls and Jeremy walked in together.

“Sleepy Hollow?” Jeremy squealed. “Perfect combination of whacked out history, paranormal, and snark.” He claimed the chair on Henry’s right, digging a hand into the bowl of peanuts Waverly slid across the table.

Xavier Dolls took the chair beside Wynonna, bracketing her between he and Doc. She smiled, putting a hand on his arm and then closing her fingers around Henry’s as if claiming them both.

“Isn’t this this kind of a busman’s holiday?” Dolls groaned. “You couldn’t find some light fare like _Saving Private Ryan_ or _Apocalypse Now_?”

“A birthday party for the old man here,” Wynonna said, sounding unusually fond and sweet.

Which was almost as scary as the macabre mystery on the screen. Henry looked around him, at his friends. He may have been born in the nineteenth century, but this was exactly where he was meant to be.

The End


End file.
